A Guide to Love
by theflawintheplan
Summary: The last time Cartman even looked Kyle's way was during a field trip when they were eight years old. So imagine Kyle's surprise when he meets Cartman while on an assignment for work. Full summary inside. KxC, please read and review. FINALLY UPDATED
1. Delays

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

A hand slapped an alarm clock to the floor, stopping the obscene racket. The resulting debris across the floor told the man's foggy brain that it was time to but a new clock. Damn. He wanted to stay under the covers a few minutes longer. However, that fantasy soon ripped away from his head as he abruptly remembered that Daylight Savings began the day before.

_"GODAMMIT!!!"_

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Minutes later, the young man tapped on his steering wheel, clearly miffed. It seemed as if everyone forgot to set their clocks back the night before. Now, they were all rushing to work, every birdie flipped and horn blaring. The man sighed. Why? Why must these things happen to him? He really needed a break today. He was supposed to get a new asssignment from the news editor, one he had been promised was interesting, and he was already late!

_Well you can certainly kiss that goodbye now, _he thought, frustratedly pulling at his crimson locks. Why wouldn't the cars _move_? He vaguely wondered if God was chuckling right now, amused with the mischevious ways He played with the man's mind. All of a sudden, the cars began to move forward. The young man was about to inch closer to his destination when another car pulled into the gap between the man and the blue car previously in front of him. Mouth agape, he watched as the procession stopped again with the man in the same spot as before. He bit his lip hard to avoid cursing loudly. This would be an extremely long day.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"Is he here yet?" A puce-faced man greeted the secretary's vision when she looked up. She slowly yawned, then sighed, and finally weighed her words carefully as she chose them.

"Who? Broflovski?"

"Well everyone else is here." The man hissed.

The woman stared into his infuriated, sharp gaze unblinkingly. "Sir, if you haven't seen him, _I_ haven't seen him. But if, by some miraculous chance I see him before you, you'll be the first to know." His eyes flashed and he searched for harsh comebacks. After a moment however, he turned. The man had only taken a few steps before the secretary's voice caused him to pause.

"He's here!"

The man whirled around, looking for the pain named Broflovski. When he saw no one, he gave the woman a quizzical, uncertain glance.

"Sorry, just practicing."

He sneered, walking a bit closer, but then sighed in defeat. "If he isn't here in fifteen minutes, I'm giving the assignment to someone else."

The man stormed into his office, ignoring cries of, "He's here!"

When the echoes of the doorslam subsided, the secretary grinned wickedly at the redheaded man beside her. "Well it appears that he didn't believe me, Kyle. Seems like he doesn't trust me today and I can only imagine why."

Kyle didn't what the exact exchange had been, but knowing the two people involved, he didn't have to think hard to guess. He smiled knowingly. "Are you and Mr. Willis still having problems? Perhaps one of you should call a truce." He looked at her pointedly.

The secretary returned the smile. "Not until he knows how to hols his tongue. He has a problem with taking his anger out on people other than the culprit." She winked and held a finger and held a finger to her lips. "Besides, he has an overgrown elephant trunk!" At that moment, Mr. Willis's office door slammed itself closed. Kyle could only wonder at how long he'd been listening in. But he immediately dropped the thought to tune in on the secretary's continued speech. "I swear, that man is my every dream."

Kyle knew how deep the secretary, Kayla Albright A.K.A. his best friend, had fallen in love with their boss, a thirty-something editor. In fact, the only one in the staff who was still oblivious to her feelings was Mr. Willis himself. (One many occassions, Kyle had the mind to tell him, but in the end Kayla's pleads not to won him over. After all, there could be no relationships inside the newspaper staff.) Kyle also knew that if the two quit bickering long enough, Mr. Willis would notice all of Kayla's good features. Honey-blond hair, violet eyes, pale and flawless skin, not to mention her strange fashion trends and snappish wit. But alas, the editor was as blind as Kenny McCormick (Kyle's other friend) was poor when it came to matters of the heart.

He almost replied when they were interrupted by a teenager-who looked slightly familiar. Kyle noticed the sweaty plams, blood-shot eyes, excessive pimples, and anxious fidgeting and guessed that he was an intern. He wanted to make the teen feel more comfortable, so he offered a warm smile. "Yes?" The teen's cheeks moved to make room for what was probably supposed to be smile, but looked more like an uneasy grimace.

"Mr. Willis wants you in his office. He also says that instead of talking with Miss Albright, perhaps you should be more interested in your assignment. He's starting to wonder if you still want it."

Kyle realized why the boy didn't accept the grin. He must've gotten the brunt of Mr. Willis's rage from the Kyle's tardiness _and_ Kayla's banter. The ginger sighed and gave the woman beside him a slight wave. He turned to the boy, who cringed. "Thanks for reminding me. I honestly don't know what pit of darkness this building would fall into if we didn't have people like you telling us to get off our lazy asses and get something done. You keep this newspaper alive." The teenager gave a small, but geniune smile before departing. Shame, Kyle had almost figured out who the boy had reminded him of. As soon as the boy was out of sight, Kyle's shoulders slumped and he peered at the office door down the hall. He could practically feel the anger and hatred radiating from behind the wood. Should he step inside? After all, he could lose job....

Kyle squared himself. If there was one thing his mother taught him it was to be strong in times in trouble. Keeping a calm face, he entered the only barrier between him and certain doom.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: Viola! Le premier chapitre. Hehe, a little french for you. Sorry it's so short, but once Eric is in the picture, the chapters should get a bit longer. Au revoir maitenent!

~theflawintheplan


	2. Author's Apologies

I forgot to put the summary (O_O") so here it is!

Summary: The last time Cartman even looked Kyle's way was during a field trip when they were eight years old. So imagine Kyle's surprise when meets Cartman while on an assignment for work. The reunion isn't exactly what the Jew hopes for though as he finds himself having to prove his desire for the Nazi's friendship. Can Cartman trust Kyle with his heart again? Or will Kyle just crush him like last time?


	3. Chapter 2: The Assignment

_Kyle squared himself. Is there was one thing his mother taught him it was to be strong in times of trouble. Keeping a clam face, he entered the only barrier between him and certain doom...._

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Kyle was a little surprised that his voice matched the calm demeanor of his face, when it obiviously wasn't how he felt on the inside.

"Have a seat, Broflovski." Mr. Willis was leaning back in his chair, his brow knit together, eyes closed, and pinching the bridge of his nose. The redhead didn't know for sure what would happen when he did, but he took the seat anyway. "You're late." He stated simply. his eyes did not open. "Being prompt is a good way to receive good assignments."

"With all due respect sir, I-"

"Save your excuses Broflovski." He sat up is his chair and piercing blue eyes met vivid green orbs. "You'll be covering the murder-"

"Murder? Mr. Willis, I've _been_ covering murder scenes and grisly mystery stories. I want to do something the viewer needs to know." Kyle was astounded. He thought he was going to get a good assignment! What was going on?

"You're late." Mr. Willis said again. Now Kyle understood.

"But Mr. Willis, you told Kayla that if I arrived in fifteen minutes, I would still get this assignment!"

The addressed leaned over his desk toward Kyle. "I don't recall that. You'll be covering a murder investigation in Cedar Rapids. Try not to get in the way of the business men who are meeting there. You can use today to get started packing for your trip." Kyle realized he was being dismissed and quickly gave a weak nod, walking toward the door. Hand on the doorknob, his boss's voice stopped him from going further.

"Have a nice day, Broflovski."

A pin drop could be heard after the slam off the office door.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Kyle sat on his suitcase trying to force the zipper closed. Bitterly thinking of how he could break every stereotype for women, Kyle subconsiously dialed a number on his phone.

"Kyle?"

Shit. "Hey Stan!" The ginger said as enthusiastically as he could, but the other still caught on to his worried tone.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"Kyle, you know you can't hide anything from me. I'm your Super Best Friend!" Stan's voice had a mocking stern tone to it, but also had underlying concern. "Tell me what's wrong."

Silence.

"Kyle?"

A sigh. "Can I come over?"

Stan was taken aback by the worry that laced through the Jew's words. "Sure man. Wendy's out of town, so you shouldn't be too stressed out." He knew two barely got along and he knew _that _only occured because he was in the room.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Half an hour later, Kyle's woes were told and he felt much better. He was still a little nervous, but Stan gave him a certain comfort that Wendy just didn't understand. Sudenly the raven turned to the journalist. "So...how long are you supposed to stay in Iowa?" Stan wasn't sure he could take the long absence of his best friend. No, they weren't even best friends anymore. They were brothers.

Kyle frowned. "I don't know....As long as the investigation goes on I suppose."

"Well, look on the bright side!" Stan enthused, grey eyes lighting up. "You're in a new place and you're charismatic. You'll make lots of new friends and soon it won't be _quite_ so unbearable."

Kyle grinned knowingly. "Quite?"

The smile was returned ten-fold. "Well you know your Super Best Friend won't be there. You automatically won't have a _great_ time."

"I'll have a _great _time if I don't meet someone like Cartman."

"Yeah, that would be terrible." They shared a laugh.

"Stan, you're the best friend a guy could ask for. I hope you aren't too upset that you can't come. I know I am."

"It's fine Kyle, really. You just have a good time okay? And if you ever need me, I'm only a phone call away."

"Okay." They briefly embraced and then Kyle was out the door, hurrying toward the airport. The two didn't need to say "I'll miss you" or "Goodbye". Sometimes they understood each other's silence more than their longest conversations.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Stepping off the plane, Kyle finally felt a rush of excitement. Maybe he could enjoy himself here, even without Stan or a fresh new story. Little did he know that happiness was a long way off yet. In fact, Kyle Broflovski would soon wonder if he could ever achieve happiness again. Perhaps reader, if Kyle had never taken the story offered to him, he would have stayed snug under his covers and fate would have never had it's way. But, reader, he did.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Such a crap ending I KNOW!! Urgh I hate it, but I wanted to try something new. What do you guys think?

I want to leave you guys with something kinda sorta interesting though, so here's a preview for the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 3: Enter Cartman!

Stepping off the plane, Kyle quickly gathered his luggage and rented a maroon Camary LE. After three near accidents, five birdies flipped at him, six little old ladies screaming curses, and one man trying to fight him for a parking space, an exhausted Kyle trudged through a Holiday Inn's doors.**(1) **But though he had arrived at his sancuary, his troubles were not quite over.

A teenaged girl sat at the front desk. She glanced at him boredly before turning back to her _Seventeen_ magazine. She could have been that familiar trainee's sister in acne and blonde hair, but while he was timid, she couldn't care less what her boss would do to her. Popping her bright pink bubble gum, she adjusted her plaid skirt, white t-shirt and neon green mesh tank top, then kicked her combat-clad feet onto the counter, paying no more attention to the reporter. Kyle cleared his throat.

"Excuse me?" Another glance, that was all. "I've already booked a room here, I only need the key." Silence met this statement and Kyle lost his paitence. He continually rang the bell until she shot him an annoyed glare and snatched the bell away, causing Kyle's hand to to smack the counter. Rubbing the red palm, Kyle repeated his earlier a card on the counter, the girl turned back to her "bible". The reporter turned away disgustedly as he grabbed his key and headed for the elevator. With any luck, he would have a better tomorrow.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

This was _not_ a good day. Kyle couldn't find any police officers who were willing to give up any facts-officers who, when faced with reporters from Iowa, found no problem with handling over "confidential" information. At the rate these interviews were going, the ginger never get a take on the murder, let alone another chance at a new assignment. Frustratedly, the redhead dragged his fingers through his hair, tearing at it as he went and ground his teeth together. Why couldn't he get a break since daylight savings began? A new voice among the crowd of officers and journalists caught Kyle's attention.

"No, we do not a comment at this time."

"Well your colleges just told me that this was the missing boy from a couple of weeks ago. Care to elaborate on that?"

"No comment."

The reporter tried a different approach. "Surely you want to find whoever did this." Gesturing toward the pile of flesh, bones, and blood, both were oblivious to Kyle's prying eyes and ears. Perhaps he could still get the story and learn how to get information out of the law enforcers. "If you give us some more facts to air, someone could call in as a witness." Frustration made the speaker, some blonde chick with big breasts, speak with a sarcastic tone and the ginger fought the urge to smirk. She honestly didn't know how to get information. He frowned as he realized he resided in a glass house.

"No comment." The cop's words were firm now, no room for questions.

"So you really don't want to help the little boy?" Blondie asked rudely.

As the reply increased in volume, Kyle decided to investigate the familiarityof the voice. "Look, I can assure you that the case is on-going and we will find the culprit of this crime." The man Blondie was talking to was tall and brunette. Kyle would've gone on, but as he was behind the pair, he couldn't see much else. "You need to leave me alone now so I can do my job."

Her cheeks flushed angrily as she realized she wasn't going to get anything else out of him. "But-"

"Respect mah authoritah ma'am!" Kyle froze as the woman walked away, memories flooding back as he stared at the man before him. But no, it couldn't be....He turned and Kyle immediately recognized him. "Cartman?" The addressed glanced over and his eyes widened as for a fraction of a second before returning to a glare. "what do you want, Broflovski?" His icy tone had Kyle taken aback, but he quickly recovered. After all, no matter what Kyle said to Stan-and himself-Cartman was a friend of his and he hadn't talked to him for years. "What are you doing here?" He didn't pay attention to the fact that Cartman was obviously involved in the case. He wanted the larger man to say it for some reason.

Cartman rolled his eyes before answering. "That's none of your business, is it _rat_?" He replied coldly. "Now if you don't mind, I have to be somwhere." He edged past Kyle and began to disappear into the surrounding crowd. The Colorado-born reporter blinked a few times before turning to call, "See you later then!" Cartman may have murmured something like, "I hope not," but Kyle decided to think positively. He and the "Fatass" had never been the best of friends, but it would be great to catch up with him. Especially after the incident nineteen years ago. Kyle needed to apologize for that still. He only had to wait until the neo-nazi wasn't so busy.

***

Broflovski? Here? He had been lucky Eric had gotten out of there without punching him in the nose. Damn JESUS-KILLER! He hated him!

Eric took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. An old hag next to him complained and he casually dismissed her, much to her indignation, with a simple wave of his hand.**(2)** Pleased with the reaction he received, he smirked while sauntering away.

Well Broflovski obviously wanted to be friends, right? Eric would make him regret ever shouting that offer as the larger had stormed off. He just needed to wait and Broflovski wouldn't know what hit him.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

The next morning Kyle was out on the town, deciding that at the moment, he wasn't concerned with getting a valuable take on the story. He found a Panera's and walked inside, ordering the Chicken and Wild Rice soup with a sourdough roll, an apple and some lemonade.**(3)** As he sat down to eat, the door burst open and Cartman's figure instantly filled the frame. His eyes searched wildly until they fell onto Kyle's features and he charged toward the Jew's table.

The Jewish man only had time to grab his two sides before Cartman took him by the arm and led him outside. Kyle met the gazes of the diners and workers and immediately knew they shared on thought: _Was this the tiff of a spurned lover and his true love?_ Kyle blushed and was glad of the privacy the outdoors seemed to bring.

"Okay, you really want to be my friend then?"

"Of course! I mean, I know we had our differences in the past, but I'm hoping we can set them aside to become true friends now." Kyle smiled, but Cartman did not.

"Are you fucking insane?" The brunette hissed. "Even if we could try being true friends with our differences and hardly any fights, do you honestly think I've forgotten what happened nineteen years ago? Have _you_?"

"No, course not!" Kyle shouted defensively. He was aware that everyone inside the restaurant had gathered at the now propped open door, trying to figure out why these two "lovers" were bringing up ancient history, but at the moment, he did not care. "In fact, I want to-"

"No!" Cartman screamed. "Don't fucking apologize! Not after all these years! If you truly want to make it work, you'll have to prove your friendship. After all, there's absolutely _no_ way I know if you're being truthful or not."

Kyle decided that when Cartman said "prove", it was time to make the conversation private again. "Okay Cartman, whatever you say. Can we go over the details of what I have to do over at your place?" Amid the gasps at the scandalous suggestion, Kyle heard the larger of the two say, "Fine." Smiling once more, Kyle was again disappointed when it was not returned. Writing his address on a piece of paper, Cartman handed to the Jew and proceeded to his car where he drove off without so much as a wave goodbye. Kyle took a bite of his apple and sighed, pocketing the slip and believing that somehow, this would not turn out like he hoped at all.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: The third chapter! *pats self on the back* I did it! Anyway, explanations:

**(1) **This really is pretty close to driving in Cedar Rapids. The people are so agressive there....Ah, but I miss it.

**(2) **God I LOVE Cartman. He's badass.

**(3) **This is always my order at Panera's, so I don't really know what else they have. Sorry.

Since I'm too lazy right now to come up with a preview, I guess that pretty much wraps up this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it!

~theflawintheplan


	5. Chapter 4: Unhelpful Situations

"Okay, I'll let you live here, but you will _not _talk about this offer anyone. The last thing I need is a goddamn Jew jepordizing my position in this case and in the force. Now, where do you live?" They had been talking the proof over and Cartman finally decided that the best way to prove Kyle had finally gotten over his pride and wanted to be the cop's friend was to move in and "help him around the house". Kyle could only imagine the bondage the words implied.

"Uh..." Normally when the redhead was reporting a case long term in another city, he had an answer no one who knew him disputed: he lived with Stan, but since Stan was not in Iowa.... "I live...." It was embarassing to say he lived in a hotel until the case was solved.

Cartman sighed, looking tired. "Look Jew, you're living in a crappy, unnamed motel, okay?" When Kyle appeared affronted, the larger snorted. "You didn't have a reply, so I supplied one. It can quickly turn into a reality, but for right now it's an answer to inquiries about your residence."

"Fine." They were on opposite heads of an expansive table in Cartman's house. Kyle would have been impressed, but judging by the fact there was only one chair that actually went with the table and one stool that Cartman had dragged from the kitchen for the Jew, the officier did not have much company, if at all. And judging his behavior, he preferred it that way.

"So where do you live?"

Kyle had a small internal battle before submitting to the police officer's will. "I live in a crappy motel whose name isn't worth mentioning." He sighed in defeat. The larger man grinned in a way that he had not done in nineteen years. And quite frankly it sent chills down Kyle's spine.

"So where is all your luggage?" Cartman asked as he tore off a piece of pork from its bone. Kyle fiddled with his own food as he answered.

"It's still at my hotel. I reserved it for at least two weeks."

"Well cancel it! You're living with meh now, dammit!" Cartman winced as his childhood accent made a reappearance.

"Fine!" Kyle repeated, albeit angier. He stormed out to his rental and drove away, leaving Cartman half-expecting that he would not return.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Five hours later Eric slowly lost hope Kyle would come back at all. His plan would not work without them living together. When a car's engine rolled up the driveway, he jumped off his leather couch and ran to the front hall where he impatiently opened the door.

"Kahl, I...." He trailed off at the sight of the blond before him. Who was this...?

"Hello Eric, can I come in?" A deep voice asked politely. Eric struggled to find his own voice again.

"I, well, uh...." Pretty, dark azure eyes sparkled in amusement.

"May I please come in?" His chuckles rang through the average house and Eric shook his head quickly and cleared his throat.

"Ahem! Yes, yes, of course." He stepped aside so the other man could enter. At the moment, he could not remember who he was angry at. "S-so what's your name?" Eric asked, trying to remain casual in the face of the gorgeous man in front of him.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me." He pouted. The blond grinned suddenly and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Mmph, mmph!" (Hey, Eric!) Eric's jaw dropped and you could have heard a pin follow it down to the floor. The blond laughed out loud at the cop's expression-priceless. However, Eric was not as amused as his former friend.

"Goddammit Kenneh!"

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

It had been a couple hours since Kenny McCormick's unexpected visit. As they laughed over great memories and bitched about not-so-great memories, Eric heard his door open suddenly. Knowing the Jew's appearance would set off a shitload of rumors via the blond beside him, Eric jumped off the leather couch once again, but he could not stop the next reunion from taking place.

"Kenny? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed in South Park?"

"Well a little birdie told me you'd be here." At Kyle's quizzical face, Kenny chuckled. "The ever hot Kayla Albright. When she told me, I thought I'd give you a visit to see how things were, but when I found out Cartman was here also, I couldn't pass up the chance to see him again." He grinned. "What are _you_ doing in Eric's house?"

Kyle could not stop the blush that erupted across his cheeks. Stuttering out a lame excuse, he looked to Cartman for support. "I-I was just w-wondering if since Cartman was a police officer, he would allow me to get a few facts about the case. You know, to take this back to South Park and see if anybody there knows anything about it."

"Yes he was, but since he is from a different state and considering he broke into my house, he isn't going to receive any information. Good day Jew, and get off my propertah!" He led the red-haired man to the front door again, sending him back out and quite rudely shutting the door in his face.

"How did he get a key?" Kenny asked slyly.

"W-what are you talking about?" It was too late though. Kenny saw by the brunette's expression that he did not know Kenny had noticed the glint of metal in Kyle's hand.

"You didn't know I had great observational skills, did you? Like how I can see the slight flush hiding under your skin right now. So how did Kyle get a hold of one of your keys, Eric? Hmm?"

"I don't know," Eric lied defensively, "but I do know that I have a pressing investigation at the present moment, so if you don't mind...."

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Meanwhile, Kyle met a familiar form outside the Cartman house: the blonde woman from two weeks ago.

"Hello, who are you?" She asked snidely, noticing the notebook sticking out of one of his various bags. She knew he was a journalist.

"I'm Kyle Broflovski." He decided to tell her the truth, considering it was not yet found out that he was living with the police chief.

She sniffed, looking down her nose at him. "Shauna Smith." The woman held out her hand hesitantly. "And do you...live at this residence?" If Eric had given her a false address again....

"Uh, no, no I don't." He said quickly, causing her to quirk an eyebrow. "This is Eric Cartman's house. I was just here to get facts for the story."

"Funny, I understand he isn't taking any questions from reporters." She drawled suspiciously. "Did he give you his address, or are you trespassing on his property?" Kyle had been flushing nervously, but now his eyes filled with rage.

"How do I know you aren't trespassing? Two weeks ago I saw you and Officer Cartman having a little spat about you being too persistant in trying to get a story. It doesn't seem to me that he'd be very willing to let you into his house after that." She rolled her eyes and produced the call log on her cell phone.

"This contact says Eric Cartman, does it not?" At Kyle's stiff nod, she continued. "This contact shows that the call was made because of _him_ calling _me_ to smooth things over. He wants me to know every fact that he has concerning the case." The Jew opened his mouth, but she beat him to his own question. "Why would he do that?" She shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm willing to find out." She licked her overly plumped lips suggestively. Kyle started to say something again when the front door opened yet again to reveal the other two men. They both stepped outside at the same moment and when Eric caught sight of them, his face noticeably soured.

"I was hoping you got run over by a bus on your way over here." He addressed Shauna first, then turned to Kyle. "And didn't I tell you to get off my property?" Kyle blushed under the attractive woman's smirk. If Cartman had not have come out, he might have won the little battle they were having.

"Come in Shauna." He told her through gritted teeth. "Kenny, Broflovski, get off my lawn before I arrest you for trespassing." The woman breezed past a glaring Kyle and kissed Cartman on the cheek before heading inside. Kenny grinned at Eric's threat before grabbing some of Kyle's bags.

"Come on, Kyle, grab the rest. We'll go for a ride before I drop you back off here." He winked, causing Kyle to blush again as he knew they had been caught. Getting his bags and himself to Kenny's beat up car, the two friends proceeded to drive off, leaving Eric to kick himself over how the Jew was supposed to have already been upstairs and out of the way by the time Shauna arrived.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"So Kyle is living with Eric." Kenny mused with a stupid grin plastered on his face. "I thought you weren't gay, man." He turned to Kyle to make sure he saw his reaction. The Jewish man simply flushed in anger before replying.

"I'm not gay Kenny, it's just...it's complicated." He finally sighed. Kenny kept the smile, obviously not believing a word Kyle had just said.

"So how long has this arrangement been going on?"

"I was just moving in today." Kyle gestured frustratedly at the bags in the backseat. They sat in silence for a few minutes-technically six according to Kenny's flickering clock on the dashboard. Finally Kenny turned back toward Kyle as they neared a red light.

"It's okay to be gay, dude. You could probably still keep your job, just give that Willis guy a lap dance." His laughter rang through the car. The Broflovski turned in exasxperation.

"I'm not gay! I would know if I were. I'm just trying to prove I want to be friends with Cartman again by living with him until the investigation is closed. End of story."

Kenny this in for a moment. Kyle could tell he was truly thinking about the statement because the blond's brows were furrowed and his lips pursed in concentration. His thinking face often looked like a little kid trying to figure out how to get into the cookie jar without being spotted.

"So..." he said slowly, "you're living with a gay man...to prove to him you want to be friends again? How?"

"By..." Kyle paused in horror as he thought about the implications of his next words. "By doing whatever he tells me to do."

"Looks like you're going to be sucking a lot of balls during this case, Kyle." The blond could not have appeared more amused, but the Jew looked as if he were about to be sick. Kenny wanted to calm his friend down so he changed the subject, even though he would rather have kept making jokes about it for the rest of the ride. "Stan misses you, Kyle."

The redhead's face changed into one of surprise. "That's right! I've been so worried about the case these past two weeks that I forgot to call him and say hi or something! How has he been?" He thought for a moment before adding, "How have you all been?" Glad that Kyle had forgotten about being a potential sex slave, the blond smiled and was only too happy to response.

"We've all been just fine, Kyle. I said Stan _missed _you, not that he was fixing to jump off his roof if you didn't call." His reassurances did nothing for the poor ginger haired man.

"I feel so awful, Kenny!" He moaned into his hands. "I shouldn't have forgotten about you guys. It's no wonder you came to check in on me, you probably thought I was dead!" Kenny's smile slid off his face and he regarded Kyle warily. How exactly was he supposed to fix this? On one hand, he wanted to talk about Kyle's bondage to Cartman, but he knew this would make the redhead uncomfortable. On the other, he wanted to comfort his friend, but he was afraid that anything he could say would send him into hysterics.

In the end he stared at the road in deep thought, praying that God would have mercy and deliver him from this situation and the man beside him.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Eric regarded the woman across the kitchen table. "What exactly do you want from me?" He asked slowly, not really wanting to spend time on this pest. He just hoped that this conversation would end in her leaving him alone.

Shauna laughed a melodious twitter that should have made him hear music, but instead he heard the sound of chaos. "You know what I want Eric, I want the hard facts." She looked down at the other end of the table, but the brunette had a feeling that she was not taking in the sight of the beautiful wood carvings. "And it wouldn't hurt to have a hard-"

"Okay," he said loudly, effectively stopping her from making any perverted suggestions.

"What?" She asked innnocently, batting her eyelashes. She ran her fingers through her fingers and Eric could see little orange roots poking out of her scalp. Catching Eric's intense gaze toward the top of her head, she smiled. "I know you love my red hair, Eric, that's why I'm going to grow it back out and cut out the blonde. I want you back, sweetie."

"Unfortunately, I don't want you back." He held down a small gulp at her enraged look. "I only wanted you because you were constantly fighting with me and had red hair. But after you dyed it blonde, my eyes were quickly opened to what a truly annoying bitch you are." She gaped and tried to speak, but he cut her off, standing. "My request for your presence was not your benefit in any way. I lied to get you over here. I wanted to tell you, to _demand_ you to leave me alone. And if I don't get what I want," he pulled her to her feet and guided her to the door, pushing her out into the darkening environment. "I will get a restraining order and we both know that your past actions would help me succeed."

The door slammed in her shocked face.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"I love you." Kenny tried. Not in the way he implied, but at least it would be distracting.

Kyle looked up at Kenny and to the latter's immense horror he had tears running down his cheeks. "W-what?"

"I love you?" He repeated. Kyle stared at his his friend with an odd expression on his face: one part angry, two parts trying to figure out why the hell Kenny would confess something as false as that, knowing the ginger haired reporter would see right through it. He gave up on understanding the blond idiot.

"I'm going to call Stan," Kyle stated decisively. Before he could though, a cement truck barreled into their car, sending the Jew and his bags flying out the windshield. Fortunately for the journalist, he was unharmed. Unfortunately for his friend, he was not so lucky and was killed instantly. Standing amidst the destruction, Kyle gaped in shock at the large amounts of blood seeping from both drivers. "That bastard," he whispered, trying to decide what to do next. In the end, he decided to sit down and wait for the cops to arrive on the scene, forgetting all about the cell phone in his hand.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: Another chapter! Whew, it's hard to update all these chapters at once, but I'm dedicated! It's gonna happen, people!

**Officer Smith slammed his hand down on the metal table, causing the following noise to echo around the small room. Kyle flinched and Smith looked pleased about this.**

**"You're looking kind of guilty right now. No one under the name Broflovski is checked into any of the local hotels or motels, you didn't call the police to the scene of the 'accident' and you refuse to talk now. What makes you think I'm going to believe anything you say?"**

**"It was an accident." Kyle whispered firmly.**

**"The cement driver was dead of a gunshot wound to the head before he ever hit you and your little friend. His last contact was trying to reach **_**you**_**."**

Ciao for now!

~theflawinheplan


	6. Chapter 5: Interviews with a Redhead

Kyle waited by the accident until the police arrived. Not that he really had any choice-the shock he experienced from watching his friend die before his eyes kept him rooted to the spot.

A wailing police siren hit his ear, barely arousing him from his semi-conscious state. He slowly stood to greet the rapidly arrving squad car. When it parked, two officers immediately stepped out and approached the reporter and the latter found himself surprised and disappointed that Eric Cartman was not one of them.

"I'm Officer Brian Smith. What happened here?" A short, pudgy man inquired. He had watery pale eyes, thin lips, and receeding red hair styled in a bad comb-over.

"We were driving when the truck slammed into us."

"We?"

"Me and Kenny McCormick, he's an old friend of mine." Kyle said shakily. Now that the shock was wearing off, he realized what happened. "Oh God, the truck driver and Kenny...they both died and there was nothing I could do!"

Officer Smith looked up at Kyle as he wrote something down on a notepad. "What's your name?"

"Kyle, Kyle Broflovski," Kyle supplied as he tried not to hyperventilate.

"Okay Mr. Broflovski, I'm going to ask you to calm down. Everything's going to be okay." Kyle nodded weakly, but he knew it was not going to be okay. Kenny was his friend and he was dead. What was okay about that?

"Who was driving the car?"

"Kenny, he loved that car. He'd never let anyone else drive."

"Did your friend have anything to drink before taking the wheel?" Smith's partner spoke now. She had dull, slightly limp chestnut hair, but her brown eyes were lively and curious.

"No. Well, I mean, he likes alcohol, but I didn't smell any on his breath before we got in the car."

"But it's a possibility?"

Kyle sighed, irritated. "I suppose, but I highly doubt it. Kenny made some stupid decisions, but he would never put his friends in danger."

The woman looked skeptical, but nevertheless wrote something on her own notepad.

Kyle was now addressed by Officer Smith again. "Alright Mr. Broflovski, we'll take you to your residence now-"

"No," Kyle quickly cut him off, realizing it would be hard to get Cartman's house from the motel he was "staying" at without a car at hand. He was _not_ about to walk. "I mean, I can get to my motel just fine by myself."

The cops shared a glance. "Are you sure?" Smith asked.

"Yes," Kyle tried to smile, but he was too exhausted and it soon slipped. "I'll be fine." He gathered his bags and began to walk away.

"Alright then, but do me a favor and take care of yourself!" Smith called after him.

"Will do," Kyle muttered. When he was a good enough distance away from the accident that the cops could not see him anymore, he got his now remembered cell and called Cartman.

"_Hello?_" A broken up voice responded. Kyle looked around and noticed that for being in a city, he was nearly surrounded by hills.

"Hey Cartman, um, Kenny and I were in an accident and...he's dead."

Silence was his only reply and he thought that maybe his call had been dropped. However Cartman's voice sounded before the Jew thought to look at his phone to check.

"_Where are you_?"

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"That was completely irresponsible of the both of you, and I can't believe you attracted the police like that!" Cartman continued his lecture as they drove home.

"What about you?" Kyle counted angrily. Cartman narrowed his eyes at the road ahead of them, but said nothing so the redhead persisted. "You were the one practically pushing me off your front yard and you watched us drive away without any comment at all! If anyone should take the blame, it should be you!"

"What did you want me to do, Jew? Shauna was over and I couldn't just invite you in!"

Kyle could not think of something to counter that statement, so he just angrily crossed his arms and leaned back heavily into the car seat. By the time they got back to Cartman's humble abode, it was twilight.

"Get to bed, Jew," Cartman scolded. Kyle looked at him in disbelief.

"Excuse?"

"Do you want to be my friend or not? Respect mah authoritah!" **(1)**

Kyle grumbled, but again he couldn't argue back. He grabbed his bags and stormed inside, not bothering to even glance at Cartman's self-satisfied face.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Just as Kyle woke up, his phone rang. Groggily he reached for his cell, knocking it from the night stand. Instantly woken up entirely, he scrambled for the tiny device that held his life inside it. He fell out of the comfy bed and landed a few centimetres away from the phone. Grateful he had not crushed it in the near celluar-homicidal fall.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Kyle?" A voice answered that was filled with static.

"Hello?" The redhead picked himself up out of his sheets and walked to the far side of the room. "Can you hear me now?"

This time, a crystal-clear voice responsed. "Good."

Kyle held back a torrent of excitement. Barely keeping his voice neutral, he asked blankly, "Stan? Is that you?"

The person on the other end seemed hurt and confused. "You're not excited to hear from me?"

Unable to hide his emotions any longer, Kyle practically shouted, "Of _course_ I am, dude!" Aware that Cartmas was in the other room and probably wanted to sleep in, Kyle quickly lowered his voice to normal. "How have you been?"

Forgetting they were grown, mature men who had spoken to each other only three days before they both began squealing and gossiping like middle school girls. Stan interrupted the "reunion" twenty-four minutes later.

"Ike's here and he wants to talk to you."

Kyle sighed happily. Not everything that happened in this house had to be tense and uncomfortable. "Put him on."

A moment of silence and then, "Hi Kyle! How are you? Stan said you're in Cedar Rapids. Is that true because you never told me...?

"Hey, wouldn't it be weird if you saw Eric up there? Isn't that where he was supposed to have moved during your third grade? What happened between you two anyway? You promised you'd tell me when I got older. Well, here I am about to graduate and you still haven't told me. College is great by the way. There's loads of stuff to do here. Did I mention Fillmore's here? Because-"

"Whoa, slow down Ike!" Kyle laughed. He hesitated slightly before confirming, "I have seen Eric. He's...involved in the case as well as a police officer."

"Oh..." Ike trailed off in surprise, but the silence only lasted a moment. "Well, are you guys friends yet? I hope you are because South Park wasn't the same when he left. Also, you guys know the saying, 'There's a thin line between love and hate.' That's your relationship."

Kyle had been smiling at his brother's excitement until the last part of his little speech. Ike, for an extremely bright child, had always been more like the so-called "obnoxious" classmates he depised than the younger man probably wanted to acknowledge. But that last statement struck Kyle hard and he jumped to correct his little brother.

"No, no, Ike, it's not like at all. I don't like Eric that way."

"Then why are you still talking to him?" Kyle did not have time to come up with a decent answer before Ike continued. "And why are you calling you Eric?" _That_ Kyle did not know how to respond to at all.

Ike did not seem to be concerned with getting an answer though. "Anyway, what happened between you two?"

"Ike, what you have to understand about that is-"

"Jew!"

Kyle sighed. "I have to go, Ike."

"I heard Eric's voice. Is he there? Why are you two in the same place if you're not involved with each other? What's going on Kyle?"

"I will talk to you later, Ike. I'll explain it all to you then."

"Alright...." Ike agreed reluctantly. Kyle hung up and went to find out what Cartman could have possibly wanted.

When he arrived downstairs, his green orbs were greeted by the image of well-dressed Cartman. Kyle gave the brunette a confused smile and so the larger man quickly a elaborated.

"I'm meeting some old friends today, so I want you go somewhere while I'm out." Kyle felt a strange wave of jealousy flood through his body. The South Park kids Cartman grew up with should have been considered his "old friends". Sadness replaced the envy as he realized that both men knew the reason for Eric's distant feelings toward his hometown.

"Y-yeah, sure...." Kyle agreed. "I can probably get a little more on the story anyway."

Cartman grunted. "Whatever Jew, I gotta go. Be gone within the next five minutes." He shut the front door behind him and Kyle returned to his room upstairs to get ready for the day.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

"Mr. Broflovski?"

Kyle stood quickly to greet the man who had addressed him. He was a little embarassed considering he was eating on the job everytime an Iowan citizen found him (for at the moment he was enjoying ice cream as a snack).

"Hello, Officer Smith." The redhead cop did not return Kyle's offered smile.

"I'm afraid business, and not familarity brings me here, Mr. Broflovski. You see, some information came up about the crime scene and so I'm going to have to take you down to the station for questioning."

Kyle gave the officer a quizzical look, but the receiver either did not see it or choose not to acknowledge it because the unknown question went unanswered.

"Let's go, Mr. Broflovski," Smith grunted, barely giving Kyle a chance to thrown away his trash before they headed to the squad car.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Once downtown, Kyle continued his attempt at making this a friendly conversation.

"Well, it's certainly nice weather today. It's usually as cold as the Colorado mountains!" He tried to laugh at his own, admittedly poor joke, but when Smith didn't in, the sound trasitioned into a dry cough. "So...what did you find in the crime scene that you wanted to ask me about?"

Officer Smith gave Kyle the cold shoulder the entire ten minutes to the police station. As the minutes ticked by, Kyle became increasingly nervous, so when it came time to get out of the squad car, he barely wanted to do so. The only reason he did was that he did not want to upset Smith any more than he already was.

They marched through the busy policemen and -women's desks and straight into the interrogation room. Kyle's uneasiness grew as he realised that perhaps Officer Smith was not going to be as friendly as he was yesterday. He did not know what was found at the scene of the accident, but apparently it was enough to make Smith distant towards the accident victim.

"So Kyle, want to tell me what happened at the accident again? My memory's a little foggy."

Kyle looked at him with confusion. Why was he acting so hostile with him? Did he find out that Kyle was living with a police officer who was investigating the same story the redhead was writing about?

"Well, Kenny and I were driving and suddenly the truck driver rammed into us. Neither one of us were expecting it and so we weren't wearing our seatbelts and...." Remembering the amount of blood, Kyle began to choke on a lump in his throat. Officer Smith did not seem to buy the tears.

"How did you know the driver of the cement truck?"

Kyle pinched his brows together in confusion. "I-I'm sorry? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't you? You've lied to us so far, Broflovski."

"What?"

Officer Smith slammed his hand down on the metal table, causing the following noise to echo around the small room. Kyle flinched and Smith looked pleased about this.

"You're looking kind of guilty right now. No one under the name Broflovski is checked into any of the local hotels or motels, you didn't call the police to the scene of the 'accident' and you refuse to talk now. What makes you think I'm going to believe anything you say?"

"It was an accident." Kyle whispered firmly.

"The cement driver was dead of a gunshot wound to the head before he ever hit you and your little friend. His last contact was trying to reach _you_."

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: So there you go! Another faithful update! (Finally....O_O") Just let me know how I did and we'll call it even, alright?

**(1) **This is so Cartman, but somehow...I don't think did him any justice.

Thanks for reading! XD

~theflawinplan


	7. Chapter 6: Stressful Interrogations

Kyle just gaped at the officer across from him. How could that even be possible? He did not know anyone in this state outside of Eric Cartman. How did some random truck driver, who happened to be in the same accident as Kyle, have the Jew's phone number? That certainly was strange, but Kyle hardly saw that as a reason for someone to be suspected of murder. What would even be the motive? He did not have time to pursue an answer as a knock sounded on the heavy interrogation door. Smith got up and gave Kyle one last glare before opening the door to the interrupter.

"What do you need? What? Officer…. Very well."

Just like that, the reporter was alone in the room as Officer Smith went out to talk to whoever was at the door. Kyle's journalism instincts did not kick in, in the fact that he really could not care less who was talking to Smith and what their conversation included.

The voices were muted by the door at first, but soon they escalated to a point where, without any effort, Kyle could clearly hear the argument and the other person involved besides Smith.

It was Cartman.

The shock on Kyle's face would have been priceless to the former neo-Nazi had the (still slightly pudgy) man been in the room with the Jew. Kyle wondered, this being the second time Cartman had come for him, why the larger man still refused to be something other than polite enough to veil his still burning hatred through barely civil words.

"You're can't keep him here, you have no proof that he's done anything wrong!"

"I told you already, I found a call on the trucker's phone to-" Smith tried to retort, but Cartman cut him off.

"I don't care if you found shit on his phone, you can't prove they were affiliated in any way from that phone call. There's no way to tell-"

"It's pretty suspicious if the last call a person made is to his killer."

His _killer_? He felt sick as the term was used to refer to him. He held his stomach as he bent over, trying desperately to keep his potential bile down. His ears picked up Cartman's enraged reply.

"Killer? What evidence do you have to prove that fucking theory?" There was a slight pause and then Cartman roared, "IF YOU MENTION THAT GODDAMN PHONE AGAIN SMITH, SO HELP ME JESUS I WILL KNOCK YOUR FUCKING MORONIC HEAD FROM YOUR FUCKING SHOULDERS! DO I MAKE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD?"

Kyle's hearing slowly returned to him in time for Officer Smith to re-enter the interrogation room, looking more sour than when he left. He glared at the table, burning a hole in the metal in an effort to keep his temper down.

"Based on the evidence we have at the moment, we have nothing to keep you here any longer." Kyle thought Smith's teeth were going to break. "You're free…to go." He growled. Kyle would have smirked, but he was too shocked over the course of the hour. He simply nodded, thanked the officer for letting him go, and walked out of the heavy door to greet Cartman. Smith glared at Kyle from the room's doorway as the pair passed. The sight made the Jew nearly apologise for upsetting him. He and Cartman made it to the taller man's car without any more surprises.

"Thanks Cartman, I really appreciate you getting me out of there." Cartman just stared ahead at the lane before them with steely eyes. Kyle coughed in an effort to somehow rid the air of the larger's bad aura. He tapped on the car door as he stared out the window, simultaneously creating some undefined beat and watching the middle-class houses blur past. After a few minutes, he could not stand the silence any longer. He had to break it.

"Beautiful day, isn't it? I can't believe how bright the flowers-"

"Do you even know how to lay low, Jew?" He laughed softly, darkly. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken you in." His jaws began to grind against each other in irritation.

Kyle's lips pursed into a tight line as he realised all the while he had been at Cartman's house it was just like they had jumped into the past. The larger man showed Kyle how much hatred he held for him any chance he could. He understood why Cartman would be angry at him-what he did when they were eight Kyle still had not really forgiven himself for-but he still should have grown a little more tolerant of Kyle since they were supposed to live together. They did not have to live under a terse and uncomfortable roof. Cartman seemed determined to make it that way though.

"I didn't ask Kenny to make sure a truck driver slammed his vehicle into us, causing the death of both drivers! I didn't know that guy, I don't know how he got a hold of my number, but you know what, Cartman? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got myself taken to the police station where they questioned me about something _I know nothing about_." The more words that flowed from his lips, the angrier Kyle seemed to become until he felt everything his gaze fell upon should either melt or explode.

A muscle in Cartman's jaw ticked as his teeth continued to file each other down. He appeared to want to say something, but never found the calm demeanour so the rest of the car ride, since the second time since Kyle met Officer Smith, was soaked in a stony silence. He ripped open his car door as he pulled into the driveway, waiting until he was fully parked and un-belted to jump out of the small car and then slammed it shut. He would have been satisfied with the distance Kyle's startled reaction put between the Jew and his seat, had he felt like offering the grace of looking at the redhead at that moment.

"Get out and come inside!" He stated as he started towards his front door. Kyle sat for a minute in complete awe that Cartman had the ability to growl something out like gravel was caught in his throat while also yelling it out to the point where it seemed as if he wanted the entire world to hear. When Cartman turned around and gave Kyle a death glare, the Jew decided it was best to stop gazing at the former bane-of-his-existence and got out of the car.

He waited beside Cartman until the police officer was able to open the door. He shot inside the house and up the stairs to his room, closing the door just in time for his phone to begin ringing.

The caller ID said it was Wendy Marsh.

Kyle looked down at his phone for a blank moment, wondering why he was receiving a call from Wendy. Whatever she wanted to say, it was probably not going to be anything nice. Nevertheless he answered it; he knew he would get an even nastier call later if he did not.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, it's Wendy." As if he had not guessed from the self-righteous tone.

"Wendy? Is it really you? I can hardly recognise your voice when it isn't bitching at me." He laughed through the feeling of Wendy glaring through the cell phone.

The redhead was surprised the phone did not freeze as it faced Wendy's icy tone. "I'm not really in the mood for your stupid jokes, okay Kyle? I'm calling you about Stan."

Kyle's smile immediately dropped as the sick feeling from earlier returned. He gripped his cell phone tighter. "What happened? What's wrong with Stan?"

"Something that concerns his wife, not his friend." She snapped. She huffed. "He's worried sick about you and I don't like it. He should be loving me right now. I even bought edible, hot pink underwear since I'm at my ovulation peak-"

"Thank you, Wendy!" Kyle cried, trying to cut her off as soon as possible. He did not succeed in keeping the mental image of Wendy in her new purchase out of his mind. It was enough to make him bisexual all over again. He shuddered and only hoped Stan would do the same upon seeing his spouse in her ridiculous outfit. He sighed in frustration at her antics to show off. "I don't need to hear about your new ideas to get pregnant. You have Stan's ring on your finger, obviously I'm not a threat to your happiness." Wendy was silent for a moment and Kyle was beginning to wonder if she hung up on him and he had not heard it.

"Wendy?"

"Stan is in the other room, wondering why his precious '_Super Best Friend'_-" Kyle was amazed at her ability to make the words sound so insulting, "isn't answering his phone! So fuck you Kyle, you are a _major_ threat to my marriage! I mean, God forbid you should go to Iowa for a few months and leave him behind! You would you had died, the way Stan mopes around the house, acting like his life no longer has any meaning. _You _did this to him, Kyle. You and your little bisexual disease. Not mention the fact that during the field trip you forced me to-"

Kyle hoped the bitch went deaf from the loud dial tone buzzing in her ear. He crashed onto his bed, wincing as the box springs felt crushed under his heavy-enough frame. Geez, you would think Cartman could at least afford a more comfortable mattress…. Not that Kyle deserved one in the cop's eyes-and how could the eldest Broflovski child blame him? **(1) **Kyle shifted his face out of the sheets as his phone vibrated on the bed. Now who wanted to call? A cold stone caused his stomach to plummet to his toes as he wondered if it could be Wendy or Eri-_Cartman_-calling him. Not finding any reason why Cartman would call him on his cell while they were both at the house (Kyle wondered why the brunette had even entered his mind in the first place) Kyle hesitantly looked at the caller ID. The name that flashed up at him made him hastily pick up the phone.

"Hello?" He asked, breathless.

"Ooh, am I interrupting something naughty?" A feminine voice feigned a snide tone. "I thought you weren't interested in Eric Cartman."

Kyle scowled. "I'm not. And how did you find out he was here anyway?"

"He called Mr. Willis a couple of days ago to complain about how 'someone out of state' hindering his murder investigation. He made sure to tell Mr. Willis who he was, and the boss ranted about him the rest of the day. I figured he was the same person as the boy you used to hate and now secretly want to be best friends with-"

"I don't want to be _best friends_ with him, Kayla. I just…." Kyle sighed as he gazed out of the window across from the bed. "I just want everything to go back to the way it used to be. At this point, I really don't care if he constantly rips on me again for every little petty reason again, at least it would be more normal than this type of hatred."

Kayla was silent for a moment. "I think there's too much history in that one field trip you guys on for that to happen. I mean, you were in denial for too long. At least for a potentially decent friendship." She giggled, losing her serious tone. "I didn't know you were a emotional masochist, Kyle."

Kyle scowled again. "I'm not in the mood for your jeers today, Kayla."

"Why? What happened?"

Kyle sighed. "First, I saw Kenny-"

"Oh yeah, I sent him over there because he was really eager to visit you. How is he?" Kayla inquired cheerily. Kyle sighed again. His least favourite trait that Kayla possessed, besides her inability to tell Mr. Willis how she felt, had to be her uncanny ability to only half-listen before she began to interrupt the person she was talking to.

"Kayla, listen okay?" He waited until he was sure she understood his seriousness. "Kenny's dead."

"_What_?"

"He…he died in a car accident yesterday when a semi slammed into out tiny car. Now some Officer Smith is investigating the accident and at first he was nice because he thought I was a victim, but now he found out that I'm not living in a hotel like Cartman told me to tell anyone who asked me where I was staying while in Cedar Rapids, and I guess I shouldn't have lied to the police, but Cartman never addressed that dilemma and I didn't know what else to do; now Smith looked through the phone records of the truck driver-who also died in the accident by the way-and he thinks I killed them both because the trucker's last call was to my phone even though I've never met the guy before; Cartman isn't making my confusion any better by seeming to want nothing to do with me but he's just fine with letting me stay in his house for unknown reasons and always gets me out of trouble with Officer Smith; I recently got a call from Stan and Ike and Ike says he misses me, but he's putting pressure on me to like Cartman even though I'm not even sure if I can be _friends_ with the guy; Wendy just called to bitch at me because Stan's being an emo about me being in Iowa at the moment, and so she thinks I'm plotting to steal Stan's affections away from her-this stems back to the field trip; and now you're calling and I was worried it was Cartman, but I didn't know why he would call me on my phone when we were in the same house, so I was scared it was Wendy again because I hung up on her but it turned out to be you, and so I'm stressed and relieved all at the same time and I thought letting it all out would help, _but it's only stressing me out even more_!"Kyle took a few moments to catch his breath while Kayla tried replaying that information in her head so she could hopefully make some sense of what he said. She was silent for longer than Kyle expected, so the redhead began to grow worried.

"Kayla? You didn't hang up on me, did you?"

Silence.

"I know I started to rant, but-"

The woman giggled on the other end. "Wow Kyle, I have to say that I'm not really surprised about Wendy, Cartman, or Smith. Trouble always just seems to cloud your sunny skies!"

Kyle did not appreciate her laughter. He voiced his complaints, but she only slightly stoppered her chuckles.

"I'm sorry," she wheezed in between chortles, "I'm sorry, Kyle. I didn't mean to make you any angrier or more stressed out." Kyle was quiet, and the woman took that as him not forgiving her. "Hey Kyle, I really am sorry. I just thought that if you laughed about it a little, you wouldn't feel so stressed anymore."

Kyle was silent for a moment. Then, "…I can laugh at my own problems on my own time, thank you." They both smiled, even though they both knew the other couldn't see the gesture over hundreds of miles of landscape. Kyle smiled after they enjoyed a couple of minutes in comfortable quiet.

"I do feel a little better, thanks Kayla."

Kayla smiled-Kyle could not see the grin, but he could hear it in her voice. "That's good Kyle, I'm glad. But do me a favour, okay?"

"What?"

"Stay out of trouble." They laughed while Kayla tried to shush Kyle enough to talk again.

"I'm serious!" Here's what you do: gather evidence to prove your innocence to Smith. Whatever that may be-pulling your own brain records or anything like that to show you never knew this truck driving guy. Next, present yourself to Cartman as a nice, respectable young man who only wants to do a good reporting job and maybe win Cartman's hand in friendship in the process. Finally, and Kyle, this is most important thing you have to do."

It did not take an expert to guess what was coming next. "What do I next, Kayla?"

"Don't, I repeat, _don't_ steal Stan Marsh away from Wendy. The consequences may be catastrophic."

Kyle laughed. "You're completely insane, Kayla."

"It's one of my more endearing qualities."

"Yeah, I-"

"BROFLOVSKI! DINNER!"

Kyle sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that afternoon. "I have to go Kayla, my friend in shining armour has called to rescue me from the dangers of starvation."

A chuckle. "Alright Kyle, call me in a couple of days, or when you're stressed again. You know the latter's bound to come first."

She twittered lightly as Kyle said, "Thank you Kayla, you're too kind." He hung up after goodbyes were exchanged and started downstairs. With every step he took to get closer to the larger dining room table, Kyle noticed the sick feeling in his stomach steadily increasing, the muscle fluttering up and down, up and down. He felt as if he would throw up at any given moment.

When he arrived, Cartman gruffly fetched the stool for Kyle and _plinked! _a plate down in front of the Jew before he moved off to the head of the table. Kyle took a small bite and was surprised to find the food decidedly kosher. However, past events kept the reporter from fully realizing Cartman's efforts.

Kyle picked at his food, wondering what Wendy could have meant by calling him about Stan. He felt eyes burning into the top of his forehead and he looked up to see Cartman glaring daggers into his head.

"What's wrong?" He sighed. Knowing Cartman still had a problem with him was actually exhausting him more than anything else right then. The largely built brunette stared back at him as his murderous thoughts flowed through his eyes like a feature film.

"I hate you, Kyle."

Kyle's own eyes grew wide with shock. The statement was so blunt and said with much sincerity that Kyle simply was not expecting. He nearly choked on his glass of water.

"Excuse me? What do you mean?"

Eric's-_**CARTMAN'S**_-eyes almost softened with indifference before he repeated his confession. "I hate you, Kyle."

"Look, if you're talking about what happened on the field trip-"

"You bet your Jew ass I am!" Cartman spat vehemently. Kyle peered over the table at the Cartman through his vividly green eyes. "You purposely cut me down so I would leave South Park, didn't you?" The reporter wanted to point out that that sounded more like what Cartman would have done to him, but the other man would not allow him time to defend himself. "You cut me down, you refused to care after I got hurt and moved away, and _now_ you want to act like you're the best friend a guy could ever hope to accept back into his life? Well, everyone knows Jews lie!" Finished with his tangent, his mouth set back into a firm line as his eyes resumed their original glaring position. Kyle thought about how he could make everything alright. He really would not mind if their relationship went back to how it was before the stupid field trip. As long as Cartman was sincerely okay with him again.

He sighed. "Cartman, I-" Their defective conversation was cut short when the addressed man's phone went off. Cursing under his breath, his eyes slid from the redhead to the tiny device in his hands.

"Cartman here." His face went from angry to pale, then sad, blank, and finally grim. "Alright, I'll be there in a few minutes." He hung up the phone and regarded Kyle with half-bitter, half-exhausted eyes. "I'm headed down to a potential abduction site. You can do whatever you want as long as a) no one finds out you're here, and b) you have a ride to wherever you're planning to go. I'm not a cab." With that said, Cartman got up and gathered his various items before walking out the front door. Kyle sat in shock for a moment. He almost considered South Park as tranquil compared to the never-creasing action of Cedar Rapids. **(2)**

Finally deciding to follow Cartman out to the crime scene-he had a job to do after all-Kyle floundered around various areas in Cartman's house as he gathered his reporting equipment. He wondered at Cedar Rapids's crime rate and knew he still had to solve his own little mystery before it completely consumed his freedom.

A/N: Here you go (finally)! I hope the comments/preview makes up for my tardiness! ^_^"

**(1) **What a repetitive whiner, right?

**(2) **I don't think so, Kyle. South Park is much worse….

**Preview:**

**Shauna and Kyle saw each other again at the abduction site. Kyle was not very interested in another conversation with the woman and he tried to walk away, but apparently she was.**

"**Have you seen Eric lately?" She inquired in her melodious twitter. That stopped Kyle dead. How was he supposed to get out of this one without further arousing her suspicions?**

"**Officer Eric **_**Cartman**_**?" Kyle asked stupidly, acting as if he had only just met the man a few days ago. "Why would you ask something like that?" He was never extremely talented at lying to people, especially when the person he was talking to was already suspicious, so he chose he words very carefully.**

**Shauna shrugged, but her eyes gleamed with an unfriendly light. "It's only a question-Broflovski, was it?" Kyle nodded when he realised that was the reason for her pause. She smiled. "Well Broflovski, strangers need to be careful in this city, especially during a crime investigation. After all, kid,"-**_**Kid?-**_**"you wouldn't want people to think you're the one to blame." Her twittering laugh stayed behind as she walked away, leaving a very stupefied Kyle in her wake.**

Please don't forget to review! That little link button gets a little lonely sometimes! XD

Adios!

~theflawintheplan


	8. Chapter 7: Getting Somewhere?

The next time Shauna and Kyle saw each other, they were both at the abduction site. Kyle was not very interested in another conversation with the woman and he tried to walk away but apparently she was very much interested in the potential fight.

"Hello again." Kyle noticed the lack of use of his name. He gritted his teeth and, despite the slight falter in his steps, began his escape again. He was not going to fall into her trap. He was not going to fall into her trap. He was not going to fall into her trap. He was no-

"Have you been around Eric lately?" She inquired in her melodious twitter. That stopped Kyle dead, mentally and physically.

"Officer Eric _Cartman_?" Kyle asked stupidly, acting as if he had only just met the other man. "Why would you ask something like that?" He was never extremely good at lying to people, especially when the person he was talking to was already suspicious, so he chose his words very carefully.

Shauna shrugged, but her eyes gleamed with an unfriendly light. "It was only a question-Broflovski, was it?" Kyle nodded when he realised that was the reason for her pause. She smiled. "Well Broflovski, strangers need to be careful in this city, especially during a crime investigation. After all kid," –_Kid?_- "you wouldn't want people to think you're the one to blame." Her twittering laugh stayed behind as she walked away, leaving a very stupefied Kyle in her wake.

Looking around to see if anyone heard what Shauna had said, Kyle caught a glimpse of a woman who could have only been the mother of the kidnapped boy. Her dishevelled, mousy brown hair fell like feeble strings along her plump face and was the only part of her shown as she hid her face in her husband's shirt. She clutched to the grim-looking man for support as she keened for the loss of her son. They were talking to some random police officer. The woman looked up from her husband long enough to glance Kyle's way and the Jew was immediately forced to break eye contact with her. Her gaze told him that she knew he was a media journalist and she openly hated his prying profession.

Kyle blushed and desperately searched for something else to catch his eye. Once again, however, his gaze betrayed him to a scene he did not particularly want to see: Cartman was currently waving reporters off (Kyle could not quell the glee he experienced at seeing that one of them was the ever "amazing" Shauna). The crowd surrounding the stern cop did not seem to take the hint and Cartman was getting angrier with each second that passed.

"You're all vultures, do you know that?" He finally shouted over all of their hounding questions. This query calmed the others down a bit—enough so that the officer was allowed to continue with his comparison.

"You're all vultures who feed off of other people's misery in order to stay alive yourselves. The sad thing is you all don't even realise that that type of existence is no existence at all." His sweeping gaze caught Kyle's then, and the newest arrival to the "feeding" frenzy instantly knew the larger man was referring back to the time the pair had been partners during that field trip nineteen years ago….

The redhead snapped back to reality a couple of minutes later to find the crowd was still attempting to grind answers out of the stony Eric T. Cartman. However, the slightly obese policeman would not give any reporter an ounce of information, even though he knew doing so would plaster his face all over national television.

Kyle found himself admiring the man at the front of the crowd of "vultures."

Later, when the Jew was finally ready to leave the scene of the abduction (it was getting quite dark now), his emerald eyes again portrayed to him one last, horrific image: Officer Smith had spotted Kyle only a few seconds before and was now making his way toward the latter redhead. Luckily for Kyle, he managed to escape as he wedged and cut a path into a group of other journalists who were also leaving. Smith was easily left behind and Kyle could breathe a little easier for the time being. There was only one thought preying on his mind now.

He had walked all the way to the crime scene—as soon as he had discovered where it was—but how was he supposed to get back to Cartman's house now, in the dark? Especially since he was currently watching taillights (looking suspiciously like they belonged to the former neo-Nazi's car) disappear around the bend?

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Kyle's hand shot into his front pocket, grabbing his phone. He quickly glanced at the vibrating screen to see who was calling him.

Stan.

He felt bad about it, but he pressed the red "end" button anyway, hanging up on his friend without even picking up the call. He could not answer though, at least right then, because he was with Cartman. They were presently eating in some fast food restaurant Kyle was not really paying attention to as they discussed the car accident from a few days ago. He knew that as long as he remembered to call Stan back—as soon as he had the time, the raven man would not be angry at his ginger-haired friend.

"What an asshole!" Cartman blurted out, effectively breaking off Kyle's thoughts and causing the poor redhead to choke on his soft drink. He also caught the attention of a random toddler's mother who merely sent him a glare.

Cartman pointedly ignored both of the reactions.

"What an arrogant son of a bitch!" He continued loudly, waving his arms around with just as much as expression. His glaring eyes turned once again onto Kyle, and the Jew admittedly gulped inside his mind. Thankfully, the former neo-Nazi said, "Don't worry about the pissant amount of evidence Smith has on you. I know for a fact that it isn't enough to even get a hearing, so—" he took Kyle's hands in his own, making the daywalker look him in the eyes instead of down at his plate, "don't worry about _anything_. Everything's going to be just fine."

Kyle was surprised at how angry Cartman was at _Smith_. He was no longer mad at Kyle, as if all the rage had been transferred to the "arrogant" police officer. The red-haired man was also shocked at the slight flutter he felt in his stomach when Cartman had looked into his eyes with such intense sincerity as he told Kyle it was going be okay. The reporter tried telling himself it was because he was worried this whole "case" against him was going to somehow get blown out of proportion.

They finished their lunch and got up from the sticky table with haste. Cartman spat out a few choice words that he thought related to his subordinate and the mother glared yet again. This time, however, Cartman glared back and his daggers were better at making the other look away in angry defeat.

Cartman turned back to Kyle and smiled confidently as he led the Colorado native toward the door. As they got into the car, he made Kyle look him in the eyes one more time. His cinnamon orbs shone with stern determination. "Don't you dare worry, Kahl." Kyle seemed to be the only one out of the pair to notice the man of redneck origins slipping back into his mother accent. "Everything will be okay. Trust me."

Kyle's heart swelled to bursting, and he was afraid to ask himself why.

When they finally got home, Cartman instantly settled down to read the daily newspaper. As his eyes skimmed over the print, he muttered angrily about media filth corrupting the world. Kyle grimaced himself, even though he knew Cartman more than likely came across a planet full of world-corrupting filth in his profession. He realised with sudden clarity that he was starting to hate his own career choice, seeing how nosy, judgemental, sensational, and _biased_ it all was.

Kyle drifted into the laundry room and looked down at the large piles of clothing. Apparently, Cartman was not an expert when it came to sorting clothes for the wash. He sighed, unaware of the small, soft smile staining his lips, and began to help the larger man with his weakness. A couple of minutes later, Cartman was distracted from his mental rant on how unnecessary journalists and journalism were by a simple question.

"Hey, are you doing anything later on tonight?"

Cartman blinked and looked up with some surprise. He noticed that Kyle had probably not looked at him as he asked the inquiry, focused as he was on the pudgy man's terribly sorted laundry. He had not known the Jew was good for anything when letting him stay at his house. He looked somewhat like a little maid or a housewife….

He gruffly cleared his throat, forcing away his confusion and those…admittedly tempting images. "I'm going out for a drink with the guys. Why?"

Kyle shrugged. "No particular reason, I was just wondering." But Cartman knew something was up by the way Kyle steadfastly avoided his confused stare.

And he _would_ find out what was wrong with his troublesome Broflovski charge.

So that's it for now then. I hope this chapter was worth the wait (though I genuinely doubt it… -_-")! Oh my God, it seemed so much longer when I wrote it out before but now…. Oh well, you win some, you lose some, right? No explanations this time, but it IS time for the—

_**PREVIEW**_

**Stan sat at his desk, fidgeting with his desk accessories: he constantly changed the positions of his pens and pencils and he kept picking up a particular picture frame, staring at the photograph inside.**

**Kyle had not answered or returned his calls since the one phone call they had shared early on in Kyle's assignment. Where was he now? How was he doing? Why wouldn't the Jew answer his fucking phone?**

**Stan was not sure he could handle the answer to those questions….**

**His wife, Wendy Marsh, looked in on him. Stan had stayed in his den all week—working when he was not thinking about Kyle, and thinking about Kyle when he was not working. Wendy was **_**always**_** pushed to the back burner. Even now, her husband paid no mind as he set that stupid picture frame down with a sigh.**

**Wendy bared her teeth in anger. The Jew was definitely going down—don't fuck with Wendy Testaburger.**

Alright then, sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out, I really have no excuse…. Until next time!

Your ever sorry author,

~theflawintheplan


	9. Chapter 8: Just a Couple More Worries

It was a few days later in the Cartman household. Kyle scurried around the house, doing various cleaning chores: washing the dishes, vacuuming every carpeted area or rug, sweeping the floors, mopping the sticky places, changing the sheets, making the beds, dusting the furniture…. Cartman's eyes followed the Jew the entire time, wondering how the redhead could do it all in the space of one morning. An ironic smile graced the brunette's lips as he pondered over the possibility that Kyle's Jew-bitch of a mother had taught him how to be a "good little Jewess." His thoughts were interrupted as his new "roommate" bent over in front of him to retrieve something he had apparently dropped on the floor.

Cartman's mouth watered as dirty images again invaded his head. _Bending the Jew over the washing machine, one hand trailing down Kyle's front to find a pleasant bulge in his…. _He shook his head firmly to get rid of those thoughts. It was not as if the stupid Jew returned his feelings anyway and besides, the only reason he was keeping Kyle in his house was so he could raise the reporter's stress levels and put his mind at (un)ease any time he wished. Despite himself, a scowl grew on the large man's face when Kyle's phone rang, effectively distracting the both of them.

"Hello?" Kyle chirped pleasantly. He did not really know why, but lately he was feeling increasingly comfortable in Cartman's house. He chalked it up to the time they had spent in the restaurant almost a week before.

"Hello? Kyle, are you there?" An overly excited voice screamed on the other end. If this were an anime and not a fanfiction, Kyle would have sweatdropped.

"Obviously I'm here, Kayla. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have answered the phone…."

There was a slight pause as Kayla Albright considered his words. Then, her excitement won over hesitation and the young woman continued with the reason she had called.

"I had another fight with Mr. Willis today." She said. Kyle was a bit worried at the faint smug tone to her words. What had happened _this_ time? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kyle vaguely acknowledged the fact that whenever he talked to Kayla, their boss always seemed to weasel his way into being the topic of their discussions.

"This isn't exactly a surprise, Kayla." Kyle pointed out.

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, we had a fight. And through a very accidental slip of the tongue, which had absolutely nothing to do with any provoking with wit on my part," Kyle rolled his eyes, "he said he liked me!"

"He has to like some of his employees, otherwise his job would be a living hell _everyday _instead of just most of them."

"No, no, he likes me _sexually_."

Kyle eyebrows rose. Mr. Willis, the Ice Editor and King of Strict Following of Conduct, approved of starting a relationship with his secretary of all people? "He did?"

"Well, not exactly in those words…but he _did_ tell me that he needed to discuss your assignment and since we wouldn't see each other again during the work week, he suggested discussing it over dinner! It's the same thing, isn't it?"

Kyle cringed. Leave it to Kayla's romantic thinking to take something completely out of context. "Wait a moment Kayla; I think you're taking this a little too far." He said carefully, but she did not seem to be listening.

"Anyway, I have to get prepared for this 'discussion.' "

Kyle paled. "Wait, Kayla!"

_Click!_ And then, only the dial tone answered his plea. Kyle looked up to meet the confused gaze of his former friend. If Cartman was expecting an explanation, he did not get one as his Jew half-heartedly went back to cleaning his house.

Kyle hoped he was wrong about Mr. Willis's intentions and the man really did like his friend. He hoped, for his and Kayla's sake, that this all worked out in the end.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Officer Smith sat at his desk with a dark scowl on his face. The others in his vicinity and the police station in general gave him a wide berth to avoid the wrath written clearly on his features. He tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk. He shuffled through the various folders that littered his desk. He shuffled through _one specific folder_ on his desk. He checked the time on his wall clock. He checked the time on his watch. He went into a pensive state where he went over what Cartman had said to him a few days earlier. He shuffled through the specific folder again.

This file informed him that the "accident" involving Kenny McCormick and Russell Jones's deaths was not Broflovski's first run-in with the law. He had reported his parents to authorities in one occurrence after they had allegedly molested him (the reports were never truly proven). An offense Broflovski was accused of was admittedly not for murder, but it _was_ a federal offense. Apparently a Peruvian band he was a part of was picked up and taken back to Peru (Smith was not quite sure what had happened in that particular instance). Could it be that Cartman was turning a blind eye to Broflovski's actions because they had grown up together in the same town…?

"S-Smith?"

The addressed man glared up at some rookie standing several feet away from his desk. "What?" He snapped. He was too angry and frustrated to care when the young man flinched at the shout.

"C-Cartman wants to remind you to drop the case he says you're currently working on."

"Did he say _why_?"

The other man gulped. "…He…he said that you don't really have enough evidence to—to prosecute your suspect and the defense attorneys will 'eat you alive.' That's what he said."

Smith sighed and placed three fingers at either temple. "And did he say why he couldn't tell me all this himself?"

The rookie hesitated and Smith did not like the fearful reluctance he found in the younger man's eyes. "He…said he couldn't be bothered chasing you down to say something you both knew from the start. He also said—"

"That's all I needed to hear." Smith leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes wearily. Upon re-opening them, he found the rookie was still standing there, watching him. "Is there something else that you need?" He asked snidely. The other grimaced at the cold sneer Smith graced him with.

"He wants you to leave your suspect alone and says he's serious. If you don't, he'll suspend…you. That's all." He finished quickly and practically ran for the other side of the large room.

Smith was even more extremely avoided the rest of the day.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Shauna Smith was currently sitting on a couch, watching _her _show on _her _TV without _her_ former boyfriend, Eric Cartman. She glared at the perfectly recreated image of that redhead her mind came up with. If he were here right now, she would wring his scrawny little neck. She knew he and Eric were fucking; she did not need concrete proof of that when all the true evidence was right in her goddamned face. The question was, why didn't her darling man want her anymore?

Her blonde hair (she already told him she was growing her real color back)?

Her reporting career (that did not stop her babe from screwing some new skank from another state)?

He was going through a "No-thanks-I-don't-like-breasts-because-I-think-I-might-be-gay" phase (he was too manly for that)?

That whore Broflovski was just temporarily tempting him (she was sexy too)?

…Maybe she was just too damn sexy (but he should not let that intimidate him!)?

Whatever the reason, Shauna was going after that bastard with everything she had going for her; she would break him _down_.

He would never know what hit him.

**A/N**: Alright, it's time for a preview! XD _**Vote for this story on my profile if you want to see me continue to update right away. If not, I will only focus on the top five (updated) stories with the most reviews.**_

**Stan sat at his desk, fidgeting with his desk accessories he constantly changed the positions of his pens and pencils, and he kept picking up a particular picture frame, staring at the photograph inside. Kyle had not answered or returned his calls since the one phone conversation they had shared early on in the assignment. Where was he now? How was he doing? Why wouldn't the Jew answer his goddamned phone?**

**Stan was not sure he could handle the answers to those questions.**

**His wife, Wendy Marsh, looked in on him. Stan had stayed in his den all week—working when he was not thinking about Kyle, thinking about Kyle when he was not working. Wendy was always pushed to the back burner. Even now, her Stan paid no mind to her as he set that picture frame down with a sigh. Wendy bared her teeth in anger. The Jew was definitely going down.**

**Don't fuck with Wendy Testaburger.**

So everyone's coming after Kyle now. How will he ever survive? Read to find out! Dun dun dun!

~theflawintheplan


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